


Exhaustion

by keyrousse



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (with emphasis on Comfort), Episode: s03e13 Last of the Time Lords, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyrousse/pseuds/keyrousse
Summary: Martha and Jack comfort the Doctor after the events on the Valiant. Set near the end of “Last of the Time Lords”, between the funeral and the team landing in Cardiff.
Relationships: The Doctor & Martha Jones & Jack Harkness
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Exhaustion

**Author's Note:**

> Self-indulgent missing scene. Because fics are for addressing trauma ;).  
> Contains one f-bomb.  
> Beta by [embeer2004](https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004).

The Doctor doesn’t speak at all after they land somewhere remote to prepare the Master’s funeral. Jack and Martha help him as much as they can, setting up the funeral pyre, but they don’t touch the body. The Doctor’s the one who prepares it, wraps it and puts in on the pyre.

Jack and Martha leave for the TARDIS just before the Doctor lights the torch. They can feel he wants to be left alone.

They don’t talk about it, either. The Doctor is heartbroken. They’re all exhausted. Jack still feels dirty despite having taken a shower in his old bedroom before the funeral. Martha is still running on adrenaline and she can feel the oncoming crash.

Jack had managed to repair the TARDIS back to a flyable condition - as much as she had allowed him to, which had been a lot, surprisingly - while the Doctor had dealt with UNIT on the Valiant, but she’d still whined when they’d flown her here; the Doctor had spoken to her softly in a language that Martha didn’t understand, but she suspected it was Gallifreyan. The faithful blue box took them where the Doctor had asked her to, and in the time they had been outside she must have conducted some further self repairs, because her hum is healthy again and just as they remember it when they get back inside.

So, Martha and Jack wait for the Doctor in the console room, filled again with the golden light. Martha laughs as Jack walks around the console and strokes the coral with admiration, like a lover. The TARDIS takes the compliments graciously.

“Oh, she’s magnificent,” Jack purrs. “The time travel dream, the absolute beauty.”

He stops when the door opens and the Doctor comes in, head bowed, hands in his coat pockets. He drags his feet to the console and starts the launch procedure.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, not looking at them.

They know how shaken he is from the mere fact he hasn’t bounced back to his cheerful persona by now. All the energy and passion he showed while doing his magic on the Valiant is now forgotten or hidden under a thick layer of misery. Martha and Jack don’t know how to help him, so they just watch him and try to not get in his way.

After a moment they’re hanging in the Time Vortex, the whole universe to choose the new destination from, but the Doctor is just standing by the console and staring into space, not seeing anything. The TARDIS’ hum expresses concern, it’s soft and they can almost hear her questions about the Doctor’s wellbeing.

Martha can’t bear it any longer. She shoots Jack a quick look and steps closer to the Time Lord.

“Doctor…” she whispers.

He purses his lips and squeezes his eyes shut. He sways a little on his feet.

She puts her hand on his back and starts to stroke it, up and down, and then he just melts, lets her hug him. His breath hitches and she tightens her embrace and hopes to never again hear the keening sound he’d made as he’d held the Master’s dead body on the Valiant. After all he’s been through, losing a fellow Time Lord caused him the most pain, and that moment of desperation broke Martha’s heart.

Martha can’t really sympathise with that pain. She hates the Master, and deep down she’s glad he’s gone. Her feelings don’t matter here, though, but the Doctor’s. He’s the one hurting the most.

Jack approaches them and joins the hug, his strong arms around both her and the Doctor. The Time Lord grabs the lapel of Jack’s coat, his face still hidden in Martha’s neck, his breath still hitching, and he’s silently falling apart in their embrace.

It’s Martha who leans back first, trying to see his face.

“Come on,” she says softly. The Doctor raises his tear-stained face and doesn’t look her in the eyes. “Let’s take a bath, change into some pajamas and just sleep for a few hours.”

“I don’t need…” the Doctor starts, but Jack, still keeping his hand on the Doctor’s back, doesn’t let him finish:

“Just this once,” he barks, “just stop being so superior, stop pretending you’re fine. It’s done, it’s over, it was fucking exhausting for all of us, so don’t argue.”

The Doctor stares at him, probably surprised by his language.

“Let’s do what Martha suggests. Just stop doing things for a while,” Jack adds, softer, then hesitates. “Unless you have to get rid of me as soon as possible. Fixed point and everything.”

“Nah,” the Doctor smiles through his tears. “I can stand being around you for a while longer. The TARDIS doesn’t mind, either.”

Martha nods in agreement with a ghost of a smile.

They’re really exhausted.

Jack the most, which is understandable, considering what he went through. But the Doctor… Martha can’t imagine the torment of the last year, the ageing, living in a cage like a pet, humiliated, then losing the last remaining part of his old world again after having a moment of hope.

“Come on,” Martha says, grabs the Doctor’s elbow and gently leads him towards his bedroom. “Take a shower, change into something more comfortable, we’ll meet in the lounge for a sleepover and  _ no sexual activities,”  _ she says the last part with emphasis, directed at Jack, who only smiles.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he agrees.

“Really?” the Doctor admonishes.

“It does, for once,” Jack admits with a shrug.

Martha is surprised when half an hour later both Jack and the Doctor show up in the lounge: she expected at least one of them to change his mind. The TARDIS has made them a bed, large, luxurious, with a separate set of bedding for each of them. The room is warm, the lights are dim, even the TARDIS’ hum is quieter here.

The Doctor’s hair is still wet from the shower when he shows up, wearing the pajamas she remembers from their first meeting. He smiles at her sheepishly.

Jack is also pretty decent, wearing long pajama pants and a plain grey t-shirt; she expected him to go bare-chested or at least have some cheesy phrase printed on his clothes. What catches her eye are the red rings of the shackle bruises on his wrists and how tired his face is.

She’s in her most modest pajamas.

“So, sandwich?” Jack suggests with a smile and Martha rolls her eyes at him. The Doctor hesitates and takes a step back, but Martha grabs his hand and drags him to the bed.

The Doctor yelps as he lands in the centre of the bed. Martha settles on one side of him and Jack on the other, by unspoken agreement. Both humans cover themselves and the Doctor, who’s in the middle, lying on his back, stiff as a board, visibly regretting having agreed to the whole idea.

“This is nice,” Jack murmurs as he settles under the covers, facing the Doctor, but not touching him. “Oh, God, this is better than nice,” he adds after a second once he notices how comfortable the bed is.

Martha smiles, also turns towards the Doctor and settles on the bed. She takes one of the Doctor’s hands and squeezes it lightly; she can feel him relaxing.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” the Doctor agrees and turns to lie facing Martha, and looks into her eyes.

His eyes are still old, tired and weary. Martha lets go of his hand and runs her fingers down his cheek and over his ear. He’s studying her face, and it kind of reminds her of the first night they’ve spent in one bed. It’s different, though, there’s less tension this time, no expectations.

“We deserve it after the last year,” she murmurs and repeats her movements.

“A year that didn’t happen to most people,” the Doctor says.

“Good for them,” Jack murmurs behind the Doctor’s back.

“You were tortured,” Martha says, surprised that her voice didn’t break.

“So was Jack,” the Doctor reminds her.

“And Martha saved the world,” Jack says. “Are all your women that extraordinary, Doctor?”

The Doctor smiles.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Wonder how Rose would have handled all of this,” Martha murmurs and to her surprise, the Doctor groans.

“It’s not about her, not this time,” he protests.

“But soon it will be,” Martha says, still stroking his face, studying every little detail of it. “It always comes down to her.”

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face in the bedding, then he throws his arm over Martha’s waist and glances at her with one eye, one side of his face still smushed against the sheets. “She was special, true. You’re special, too, in a different way, no less dear to me, okay?”

“Sorry.”

“Just let yourself be special and stop spoiling it for yourself.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

Jack inches closer to the Doctor’s back and throws his own arm over the Time Lord’s waist, the other hand buried under his pillow. The Doctor doesn’t tense or flinch, so Jack keeps his arm there.

“I really hope I won’t feel—” the Doctor murmurs.

“Nope,” Jack doesn’t let him finish. Martha snickers. For all the platonic cuddling, Jack can’t hide his very sexually open nature, so she’s surprised he didn’t change his mind about the nature of this sleepover; he’s not making any advances and she’s glad, the situation is awkward enough. He’s probably too tired to do anything more than cuddle.

The Doctor is now sandwiched between them, the tallest, yet he seems tiny here, curled up as he is. She can almost imagine him being light, easy to carry, although she knows it’s misleading. He’s thin, but he’s strong, six feet one of solid muscle and surprising agility.

They don’t talk afterwards, just lie on the bed, bathing in each other’s warmth. The Doctor relaxes and closes his eyes, Martha doesn’t stop stroking his face. Jack doesn’t move, playing the big spoon for the Doctor and sighing from time to time, content.

After a while it’s clear that the Doctor has fallen asleep, face partially buried in the bedding; he’s breathing through his mouth, slow and deep. Jack is still wide awake when Martha glances at him over the Doctor’s shoulder.

Jack props himself up on one elbow, the other arm is now moving along the Doctor’s spine and shoulders, massaging him gently.

“First time I see him like this,” he murmurs. “Him, as in the Doctor, not just this face.”

“What was his previous regeneration like?” Martha asks Jack in a whisper. They didn’t have time to talk before, their lives turned crazy before they managed to really get to know each other. It’s the first time Martha has the opportunity to ask some questions about the Doctor’s past, and a real chance to get the answers.

“Older looking,” Jack replies and buries his fingers in the Doctor’s hair, massaging his scalp now. The Time Lord sighs, but doesn’t wake. “Life-weary. Wore a leather jacket, jumpers, loose jeans and military boots, not like the bouncy student here. He was handsome, too, but in a different way. Less hair. Less eager to smile.”

“Hard to imagine,” she murmurs, remembering the Doctor’s radiant - sometimes even manic - smile. The smile she missed so much for the last year; the smile she was so happy to see again when their plan worked and the time reversed.

“Not that he was constantly brooding, he was fun. When he did smile, it was lighting up his whole face. He was magnificent, so enticing,” Jack says. “Rose loved him. And he loved her right back.”

This time Martha doesn’t react to Rose’s name. This girl is a part of a very important history; she knows it now thanks to the Doctor’s and Jack’s conversation on Malcassairo.

“What was she like?” she manages to ask. She hasn’t tried to ask the Doctor that question, knowing he’d shut her off instead of replying.

“Nice, pretty, brave… I think they met not long after he’d lost his people. You could see how good she was for him. That’s why she’s so special, that’s why it hurt him so much when he lost her. It seems to me you’re taking the brunt of that loss, and I’m sorry, because you deserve much better.”

She glances at him again; he returns the look, his blue eyes more serious than ever.

She nods with a sad smile.

Now they’re both playing with the Doctor’s hair and it’s so messed up it’s hilarious. The Time Lord doesn’t react, asleep between them with one arm still over Martha’s waist.

“You loved her a little,” she observes.

“It was hard not to like her, you know?” Jack says. “Much like you, you know. I’m pretty sure she convinced the Doctor to save my life, come for me when I was sure I was going to die during our first… adventure together. I messed up, he forgave me, thanks to her. But she was always off limits. Rose and I were only friends.”

“And she revived you.”

“We’ll never know what exactly she intended to do. But damn, she was stubborn, of course she’d return when she knew the Doctor and I were in a hopeless situation. How did she do that, I have no idea. The Doctor had sent her away, she shouldn’t have been able to steer the TARDIS back to him.”

“I guess I really had no chance against her,” Martha shrugs.

“Don’t say that. What you did was amazing and you had no TARDIS to help you.”

“Still, I didn’t become a goddess.”

“Hey, he told you not to spoil for yourself the awesome act of saving the world.”

Martha sighs. She’s sure Jack would poke her if that wouldn’t risk waking up the Doctor.

“And the thing with the Time Lords absorbing the Time Vortex, making them gods…” Jack continues, “it would’ve destroyed him in the end. I’m pretty sure that’s when he regenerated.”

So, Rose had the power of the Time Vortex, used it to save the Doctor’s life and revive Jack, then the Doctor took it from her and put it… somewhere, because she can tell the tall alien lying beside her and letting her play with his hair is pretty much alive and not really god-like. But the time he had carried that power had destroyed his previous body.

Rose had risked her life to save him. And then the Doctor had died for her and had been reborn, loving her.

No wonder Martha had no chance with him. She walked the Earth for him and risked her life, but Rose’s act of love was hard to beat. And Rose did it for the Doctor. Martha did it for all the people she met during that year, too.

Martha realises she can live with that, now. She isn’t worse than Rose in any way. She’s different and had the bad luck of becoming the Doctor’s companion right after a very painful loss.

“Why did you follow him the first time?” she asks.

“As I said, he was enticing. At first it was the fact that the man was a member of a legendary species. Then it was adventure, time and space travel and all that. I’m sure you can relate.”

“Yeah,” Martha smiles.

“After a time you realize that he draws you in, takes the good he can find in you and helps it grow.”

“He makes you change,” she murmurs.

“Yeah. For the better? Hopefully. Heroic? Most likely, damn him.” They both smile. “I bet you’ve never thought you’d do the things you did with him, right? And Rose wouldn’t either, she was just a shopgirl from an estate in London. That’s what he does. He enhances you.”

Martha glances at Jack again.

“You loved him, too,” she says.

He gives her a tiny, lopsided smile.

“Still do, despite everything,” he admits.

They fall silent then. Jack lays down, still spooning the Doctor. Martha smoothes down the wild spikes of the Time Lord’s hair and lays her head on the pillow, too.

It’s weird how it’s the alien, the Doctor, they feel the need to comfort: he’s usually the one caring for them, either by distracting them, which is his usual course of action, or addressing the problem in some other, more grown-up ways, but that’s rare. Now they’re here with him, together, safe and resting, so they get something from this, too. They’re close to other human - or not - beings. They’re friends here, their touch comforting, easing the sores and fears and the nightmares of the last year.

Martha realises that it’s the TARDIS who’s taking care of them now. She’s providing the safety, the bed and the warmth. Martha and Jack are just enhancing it for the Doctor in the middle, shielding him from the outside world even more securely.

The exhaustion catches up to them and soon both Martha and Jack are asleep. More than asleep - they fall like stones, not even a second between awareness and the bliss of sleep.

* * *

Martha wakes up with a gasp a few hours later. She doesn’t remember what woke her up, but she quickly notices the change in their sleeping arrangements.

The Doctor is gone, Jack is lying face down on the other side of the bed, turned away from her and oddly twitching. She can see his hand gripping his pillow so tight his knuckles are white.

Then, she feels a presence at the foot of the bed. She glances there and sees the Doctor, standing in his blue suit, hands in his trousers pockets, watching them with a soft smile. He looks better now, younger and less tired.

Jack lets out a shout and rolls off the bed with a gasp. He sits up on the floor.

“Hello, sleepyheads!” the Doctor says cheerfully. “What would you say to breakfast before going back on Earth?”

“How long have we been asleep?” Jack asks with a slur, still half asleep.

“Six hours. More than enough.”

Jack drags himself to his feet.

“Oooh, I remember the grumbling about lazy apes,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “You’d drive us to the ground, and yourself, too!”

“Well, I slept, didn’t I?” the Doctor shrugs.

Martha puts her bare feet on the warm floor.

“How are you feeling?” she asks the Doctor. “And please be honest, I know you’re not ‘fine’,” she adds before he can answer.

The Doctor smiles.

“I’m better,” he admits. “It was a brilliant idea, Martha Jones.”

She beams.

“Risky, too,” he continues. His tone is light, so her good mood doesn’t diminish. “Seriously, this was the most comfortable bed the TARDIS has ever made. I could spend a third of my lifetime in it, like your lot, and why waste my time like that?”

“Lazy apes,” Jack murmurs to Martha theatrically, hiding his mouth from the Doctor with his hand.

The Doctor rolls his eyes.

“Be careful or I’ll dump you in the Time Vortex,” he threatens without any heat.

“Stupid apes,” Jack says in sing-song as he passes the Doctor on his way to the lounge door. He pats his back and then runs out of the room.

“Apes?” Martha asks as she stands up and stretches.

“Something my previous incarnation used to say,” the Doctor admits with a shrug.

“The one Jack knew?”

“Yeah.”

They look into each other’s eyes. Martha wonders whether the Doctor heard their conversation last night. Knowing him, even if he did, he won’t bring it up.

The Doctor smiles softly.

“Come on, let’s have breakfast.”

* * *

The breakfast is a feast, actually, the long table in the kitchen spread with countless variables of food. Martha wants to complain that most of it will be wasted, but when she sees the amount of delicacies Jack helps himself to, she changes her mind.

It’s not too extravagant, she knows what everything on the table is, but she’s also aware it’s a celebration.

And maybe a goodbye.

It feels very domestic, them sitting there, eating and laughing, Jack and the Doctor exchanging old, sometimes outrageous stories. She can imagine the three of them travelling together, the Doctor getting them into trouble, Jack muscling their way out of it, and her, being the human: the only one here who can read emotions and deal with them properly.

Because that was the role Rose played in the Doctor’s life, she realises. The Doctor needs someone like this, to ground him, to draw his humanity up to the surface, to be the counterweight to his alien superiority, because he’s able to become a vengeful god even without the power of the Time Vortex.

She knows it now. The Doctor probably sees the need of a companion as not being lonely.

Jack almost slides off his chair, he’s so full. There’s pure bliss written on his face, he pats his belly with content. Martha laughs at him and goes to make tea and coffee. Soon, they warm their hands on the steaming mugs. The Doctor looks lost in thought for a minute, then he takes a deep breath and says:

“You know what I love the most about the human race? Your resilience. As long as there’s hope, you keep going. All it takes is a rumour, a story whispered in the night. You cling to that and you survive, and it’s amazing.”

“Sometimes we need a little bit of help from a doctor,” Jack says with a smile.

“Usually that help was me making up for all the trouble I caused beforehand,” the Doctor says and frowns.

“If you want to start to regret ever coming to Earth, you better stop before we slap you,” Jack growls.

The Doctor opens his mouth, then closes it and looks down. Martha can imagine the long and fast string of thoughts on the subject and she’s glad he doesn’t argue. She knows where it came from, but she also hopes she knows where it’s going.

The Doctor is not a god. He can’t always predict the effect of his actions. He wants to travel, have adventures, help those in need and not be alone. She has no idea when he came to Earth first, but with his time travelling machine he might as well have appeared at the dawn of humanity. Overthinking all of his actions wouldn’t matter anymore, fixing all the trouble he caused could end up with the end of the world.

They finish their drinks, Jack and Martha get dressed and they meet in the console room.

“First stop: Cardiff,” the Doctor says, already turning the knobs. “Wouldn’t hurt to refuel after all the old girl went through.”

He exchanges a look with Jack.

“Let’s go see how the world is doing,” he adds and releases the hand brake.

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, I wish I could draw… (the hug by the console? Spooning in bed? Anyone? ;) )  
> Also, comments feed the writer!


End file.
